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Gender neutral bathrooms are a hot topic. In recent times they have been popping up in public and private facilities and their popularity is increasing. Laws were recently passed in America allowing school children and people to use the washroom that corresponds to their gender as opposed to their sex. These tentative steps toward gender parity are now in danger of being overturned by a regressive administration intent on fostering division and discord instead of peace and unity.

In the midst of all this chaos, it’s refreshing to know that in the 90’s rave era, washrooms (women’s in particular) became gender neutral during peak periods. For argument’s sake, let’s call this spontaneous occurrence AGBAR – this blogpost title in acronym form. When there are thousands of people rushing all at once and they need to pee (sometimes ALL at once), it truly doesn’t matter which friggin bathroom you decide to use. It was not unusual to see guys and trannies traipsing into the girl’s washroom and vice versa. Men actually preferred ours because they said it was cleaner. “Girls are so lucky! You don’t know what we have to put up with!”, a male raver once CONfessed as he washed his hands next to yours truly. Let me emphasize that at no time did I ever feel unsafe when men and transgendered folks needed to use the ladies’ washroom at a rave. Security was well aware of the situation but I never saw them intervene. AGBAR was in full effect, and although there may have been unpleasant incidents, neither myself nor anyone I knew ever heard of or witnessed them. Ecstasy is reputed to have a neutralizing effect on baser instincts that lead to violence. With everyone feeling all loved up and rushy-rushy, I’m sure the number 1 concern for ravers of all genders using the toilet was to make sure their pants or skirt was really down so as not to piss or crap all over it. Lord knows I’ve had a couple of close calls – can you say ECSTAPEE OH YEAHHHH!!!!

World renowned dance club Fabric London had gender neutral toilets that were conspicuously monitored by security personnel. Hilarious conversations would transpire around the circular sink fountain as guys and girls washed their hands together in peace, all gung ho for AGBAR and the great spirit of togetherness fostered by that overwhelming need to relieve that plagues all genders, all sexes, all nations! And we behaved like civilized beings.

For a dance culture movement that has been much maligned by politicians and mainstream media, it’s funny that ravers helped pioneer a successful social experiment in gender inclusivity, well ahead of the curve. Outside of that peace loving party atmosphere, the reality of rape culture society sets in, making the scenario outlined in the previous paragraph unthinkable in everyday circumstance. Despite the fact that ravers in the 90’s were often perceived as dirty, drug addled degenerates, I was never sexually assaulted at a rave. Not even when I wandered for hours in a sea of Ecstaticans after being separated from my friends. People were so kind, respectful, and they looked out for you. Hopefully one day, stone cold sober society will catch up to where we were. And remember to wash up on the way out.

When it comes to 90’s rave fashion, Luscious was a brand spoken of with reverence by many, even to this day. As dance culture flourished, small homegrown industries sprung up to cater to the specialized needs of flamboyantly fabulous ravers. Local fashion labels such as Snug and Modrobes (who remembers that fantastic store the latter had on Queen Street West?!) were known for their uber cool, totally out there gear designed from lightweight, durable fabrics. Luscious in particular earned a special place in many ravers’ hearts for their ultra-comfy, functional overalls specifically designed with the raver in mind.

Imagine my delight when I recently stumbled upon this vintage treasure in Kensington Market. I was especially happy to have it at a mere fraction of what I would have paid for it back in the day! These black Luscious overalls with white stitch detail are made from a 98% cotton and 2% lycra blend. The cotton imparts breathability, especially when you’re dancing for hours in a hot, sweaty room, while the lycra provides just the right amount of stretch. A huge bonus when you’re bending and squatting all night long. I would even go so far to say that this is the next best thing to wear besides naked at a rave! Side zipper closure makes these overalls easy to get in and out of and they fit nice and snug without being tight. Cleverly slanted hidden pockets, 1 on the lower leg and another on the upper back are pretty groovy. So nice to have extra places to hide and possibly forget your gum. Or papers. Not to mention, stash your glowsticks!

Such considerate extras are features that are sadly missing from today’s overalls. In case you haven’t noticed, overalls have made a huge comeback in the fashion world. This came as no surprise to me, since I’d been rocking Silver coveralls (another Canadian brand) since 2012, intuitively sensing the return of sensible wear. Often, I find women’s slim fit overalls are less about functionality and more about objectifying the female form to the point of vulgarity. Which makes Luscious all the more loveable and dear.

Alas! The pair I picked up needed to be shortened. Folding the cuffs didn’t work either because of the wide flared leg, plus I wanted to keep the double stitched finish. So I took it to Sylvia Wilkins, a wonderful lady who supervises a sewing group in my hood. Right away, she declared that previous alterations had been done on the hem. Turns out that these overalls were made for an extremely long-legged, slim built Amazon, which meant that in their original condition, they were actually too long for the previous owner. I can’t begin to tell you how good that made me feel.

Extra long Luscious overalls pinned at the hem

Hidden slant pocket on leg

90`s Canadian label, Luscious

Sylvia Wilkins

Sylvia began by pinning the hem to my desired length. With a sewing gauge, she carefully measured and cut 2 inches off. This expert seamstress confessed she likes to start seams on the inside of pants and hates sewing in black. All the more reason to appreciate her assistance!

Next, Sylvia added the first row of stitches. They were a bit loose, so she adjusted the tension on the sewing machine, which helped tremendously. So the next row came out just right, which meant I had to remove the loose job with a seam ripper. At least she was nice enough to start it for me. Fun!

As she hemmed the garment, Sylvia used a cool tool called an awl to tame the fabric as it objected to being altered. As do many humans too. She explained the flared bottom has more material which made it bouncy. Sylvia got that rebelliousness under control right quick.

5 years of Frankenräver! Sure, I haven’t written much at all lately. Life gets in the way – what can I say? While the world reels in the aftermath of a Muppet Show U.S. election, this blog is about to get a wake-up call of sorts.

When I first begat Frankenräver, I had much more time on my hands to play with my pet project. Then I got caught up in the Matrix, duking it out with various Mr. Smiths who kept morphing into the most annoying people and situations. Fortunately, the light is at the end of the proverbial tunnel! I thank God for my life and all the wonderful people and energies that have accompanied me on my zany journey.

A major celebration is ahead. At 5, I am reborn, refreshed and rearing to grow!

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Prince has passed away. The aftershock of this seismic occurrence will be felt for some time to come within the music industry and amongst his legions of fans, not to mention his close associates. I, for one, am still coming to terms with the blow of his sudden demise. “Life is just a party and parties weren’t meant to last,” as he once famously sang in the hit classic “1999.” Just a week before he died, I had christened my new stereo by playing Purple Rain. And now he was gone. Surreal.

I am deeply saddened by his death, because he seemed so young with so much life life left to live. It has taken me almost a month to finish this article. Weeks of playing his music, basking in the warmth of his phenomenal talent, processing all his fantastic accomplishments. Now I can accept that he is gone and think about what his legacy means to me.

Let’s face it; Prince’s catalogue is mindboggling. With 39 studio albums, a plethora of bootlegs and hundreds, maybe thousands of unreleased tracks chilling in the vault, the biggest question remains what does this mean for his music? That remains to be seen. Prince was notoriously protective of his work, but his fans are having a field-day judging from the glut of videos on YouTube lately. As a matter of fact, I received a notice from his lawyers to remove footage I`d shot of his Welcome 2 Canada concert in 2011 or have my YouTube account deleted. I complied, wondering how some 2 minute low res clips could possibly pose a threat to Prince. But nonetheless, it was oddly gratifying to receive a warning letter from Team P. I simply wanted to share the experience with those who could not make it. And evidently, there were plenty of people who wanted to see His Royal Badness, seeing how my videos racked up a total of over 7,000 views for 1 glorious week.

Prince mural on a sidewalk in Toronto, Canada.

Prince was the soundtrack to my adolescence. The first time I remember seeing him was on a Billboard countdown on T.V. He was in the top 5, inching closer to number 1 with “When Doves Cry.” I saw this strange looking dude dressed in purple and a frilly shirt with a morose expression on his face. I didn’t know what to make of him. I couldn’t tell whether he was black or white. I decided not to like him. And then I saw Purple Rain, the movie. I was blown away by this temperamental, stylishly talented musician and the mercurial drama surrounding him. The wardrobe was hip and astonishingly extravagant with lots of lace, big hair and big boobs heaving out of corsets. I liked how he fought with The Revolution, especially with the rather masculine Wendy, and the fact that he mentioned masturbating (!) in Darling Nikki. And how he humped the stage so hard that Apollonia got upset and ran out of the theatre. In a kid’s mind, this was pretty cool stuff.

Shortly thereafter I went to the local record store to buy the tape. It was run by this super cool guy who sort of resembled Prince. Carlos had a permed coif accented with blonde highlights. I had a huge crush on him. So much that I would go into the store and rummage through records, stealing glances at his big dreamy bedroom eyes and moist succulent lips. But of course, I was too young to really know much about sex, except that it was grown up stuff and judging from what went down in Purple Rain…pretty damn confusing too. There was also a pretty girl who worked with Carlos, rocking a similar Afro-punk style. I felt like they were part of some secret society that knew all about the Purple Rain life except me. The tape he sold me was a bootleg. No cover art but I didn’t care. I played the heck out of that cassette, feeling like I had discovered a soulmate, a rebel, someone who understood how I felt. As an added bonus, Carlos included part of The Time’s LP on the recording. I loved how Purple Rain would segue into “Jungle Love” straight after the violins. That tape is now lost in the annals of time. The way it shaped my brain development though, will last a lifetime.

Fast forward to 1985, Long Island, New York. I am spending the night with this rather rambunctious girl named T and her mom. T is a huge Prince fan. She has the Purple Rain album. We play the record and sing along. I admire the album art, especially the flowers strewn amidst the liner notes. T gives her mom plenty of lip, virtually non-stop sass. I am amazed at just how much American kids can get away with when it comes to talking back to their parents. I feel sorry for her mother, who can’t get T to listen or cooperate. The yelling continues. T sprints away, only to run straight into a wall, breaking her hand in the process. Which means T’s track and field meet for tomorrow has just gone up in flames. Her agonizing screams are nerve shattering. T’s mother scolds her soundly, saying that if she had listened, this would not have happened. They go off to the hospital, leaving me alone in the apartment. I get to enjoy the Purple Rain LP in solitude. Nice!

That summer, I acquired “Around The World In A Day.” This time, it is a bonafide recording with cover art. I dig the colourful swirls and funky fonts but above all, I feel the music. It takes me to different worlds that I have never encountered, but Prince and The Revolution make them come alive in my head. I am especially enamoured with “Tambourine.” The tape does not fall apart, no matter how many times I rewind and repeat that song. Little did I know that several years later, my little sister would sneak into my room, bang that tape and subsequently fall in love with it. She confessed to having a similar obsession with Tambourine, a seemingly innocuous song about a musical instrument. Or so I thought back then…

Rock of ages. Just won`t quit!

1992: I am the 108th caller on a radio contest, thereby winning a pair of tickets to see Prince in addition to The Love Symbol tape. Hardly believing my luck, I phoned my boyfriend and broke the news. “I’m not coming to watch you take your panties off and throw it onstage,” he declared. Seriously dude? Get your mind outta the gutter! “Chances are my panties will land on someone else’s head before it ever gets anywhere near Prince,” I reasoned. Surely he could see the sense in that? Nope. So I invited my aunt instead. She was ecstatic and we went to Maple Leaf Gardens. It was the first time I saw Prince in concert. The atmosphere was raw and electric. He performed sexy MF (he swore!) and Mayte Garcia was stunning. It was one of my happiest moments ever. Needless to say, my panties stayed on. The boyfriend became pop history shortly thereafter.

Circa 1997, my co-worker introduces me to his friend Ed. He thought we would get along because we both love Prince. He’s right. Ed is a Prince fanatic. In fact, we hit it off so well that we become raving buddies. Just imagine Prince brought 2 ravers together! I think Ed was relieved that he could wild out about Alexander Nevermind and I wouldn’t think him odd. Ed had bootlegs, videos, stuff that I’d never heard of or even known about it. Obviously he had the time and energy to keep up with Prince, who could easily drown you in a river of records. I was glad that someone else could take care of the legwork while I got to enjoy the benefits. That’s what friends are for!

Over the years, Prince has brought joy into my life with his music and unique presence. I was fortunate to have seen him perform a number of times. There is no question he is the most talented musician I have ever seen. It is hardly likely that there will be many more of his calibre in our era due to a shifting soundscape. With the advent of technology, there is less appreciation and effort made to produce recordings with live instruments. The beauty of Prince was his ability to marry tech (synths, drum machines) with a solid musical foundation of funk, pop, rock and soul. He owned his sound and his style. He drew attention to injustice within the industry during his infamous battle with Warner Bros. Back then, I didn’t understand what he was so upset about but I sure as hell do now.

Thank you, Prince, for teaching me so much about myself. Your passing gave me pause for consideration. It made me take an honest look at life. I felt sad, not just because you are gone, but because I never took the time to consider your pain as a human being. You were larger than life but you weren’t exempt from suffering; just better at transcending it than most. A true inspiration and shining example for humans to be their exceptional best. I Wish U Heaven.

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The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2015 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 11,000 times in 2015. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

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Well it’s that time of year again. I am honestly surprised that I am still writing for this blog, especially since I haven’t partied much as of late. Where Frankenräver’s gonna be within a year is anybody’s guess but I’m hoping it will remain interesting. And relevant. And fun!

With the laughable (to ravers) but much lauded (to big pharma) discovery that ketamine has medical benefit for treating depression, it seems that we’ve taken one small step closer to ending prohibition on certain psychoactives. Though it might be a cold day in hell before anyone can legally buy magic mushrooms in a North American head shop, attitudes seem to be shifting. Slowly.

Now that we have a part-time pot smoker for PM, it will be interesting to see what new legislation will be enacted to give Canadians a bigger piece of the pie. Especially seeing how the cousins down south have gotten their fingers all up in the green, turning marijuana regulation into a legal billion dollar industry while Canada quibbles over licensing the miracle herb for medicinal use. Hmmm…we all know what happened to basketball, the great Canadian invention. The Americans took it over and now we have the NBA! And no, Raptors will not make it to the finals. Again. I rest my case.

Thanks to readers worldwide for checking out my blog. France, Serbia, America, Emirates, Benin – and 90 something other countries – I am happy to know that stuff I wrote 2 years ago still gets some appreciation! With any luck, there will be more to come. Stay tuned!

It was great seeing my former rave champion bud Ed after an 8 year absence. And the ol skool crew: Uncle Steve, Jeff and Turtle. The reunion took place at CODA, 1 of Toronto’s few remaining nightclubs. Guy Gerber headlined alongside Jeff Button, Gera and Jonathan Rosa. Only the prospect of seeing Ed could convince me to part with $35 for the “reduced guestlist” – a feat I don’t plan to repeat. Come to think of it, 3 + 5 = 8; looks like I was destined to be overcharged! Fortunately, Fate sent Frankenräver a hefty rebate in the form of money bills scattered on the floor in random places.

I could complain about the ridiculous overuse of dry ice but when the Universe gifts you crisp, beautiful moola, why bother?

Ironcially, CODA was memorable as an interesting exercise in the evolutionary curve of a raver’s life. Back in the 90’s, most of the crew were single and living at home with a fair amount of disposable income to burn. We would party every weekend at the drop of a dime. Peeps would bring their boyfriends and girlfriends. As ravers mature, priorities shift. Decadent party life becomes a thing of the past, something to wax nostalgic over a glass of wine or a YouTube playlist. People establish careers (hopefully), get married, have kids, divorce (often), and grow disenchanted, relegating all remnants of Rave to the back of the broom closet.

The couple that plays together stays together. Ricky and Lisa

Some manage to retain a certain spark with the knowledge that life is different but not in a bad way. Now you party with people’s spouses. Someone’s wife is expecting a baby yet she is there on the dancefloor. Pretty impressive. You notice stuff…folks have gained weight, lost some, acquired a few laugh lines here and there. It’s a mental readjustment but thankfully, one that’s not too painful to make. All that’s required is a good dose of common sense (hi-5ives are OK, impromptu massages on your married friends DEFINITELY NOT!).

For others, it can be tough letting go of the past. As you age, your once nubile body can no longer tolerate the abuse you dished out week after week, ingesting all manner of pharmaceuticals, intoxicants and combinations thereof outlandish and simultaneously reckless. The urge to recapture those fleeting carefree days of yore can prove to be an irresistible temptation. It comes at a price not just to one’s physical health. In the push to prolong an experience that cannot be relived, some mature ravers can put themselves in danger of a dysfunctional life, stuck in limbo between a tenuous yesterday and a precarious now. The only way to strike a healthy balance is to accept the 90’s are gone and focus on building a healthy productive life. Be kind to your body but above all, be kind to yourself! Aging is a part of the human experience; it is what you make of it, nothing more. You will need to either reduce recreational drug use, cut it out altogether or find a more body friendly alternative. That is, if you wish to avoid looking haggard and bloated by the time you hit 40. Party when you need to. Celebrate your friends and cherish every moment shared, even on Facebook. Start a blog, write a book (does any of this sound familiar?

Turtle gains some perspective in a sea of dry ice

Ok, enough of the generalisms. This is where I stand. I’m meeting my friend and his wife with my single self. That means I need to forget about wearing that neon fishnet navelbreaker or risk looking like a tramp to raver wives. Skip G and stick with booze or potentially wind up twitching on a sofa like my fellow mature raver. Last but not least, marriage life ain’t so bad, judging from the happy couples at CODA. Just hook up with a like-minded, positively attuned party lover and everything should be fine.

Ed, it was a pleasure seeing you again! And meeting your adorable wife. Hang in there bud, we’re going to Ibiza! One day. By the way, did you notice that pot-bellied juicemonkey who looked like he was wondering where the fuck the party went? Down south most likely.

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Loving this mix by talented DJ Mary Velo. Surprise surprise – she is originally from Toronto. And now presumably floating around somewhere in Europe. This music provides the perfect backdrop to mundane tasks on the computer. I suspect droids everywhere are ecstatic at what Mary has accomplished. Enjoy!

America’s fifty states have a lot in common, but if their internet search histories are any indication they also have significant differences. Estately ran hundreds of search queries through Google Trends to determine which words, terms, and questions each state was searching for more than any other. The results ranged from mildly amusing to completely disturbing. No doubt this information will come in handy for anyone trying to decide which state they want to buy a home in, especially for those curious how their potential neighbors spend their time online. The results on the map above are just the tip of the online search iceberg. Check out what other search queries each state performed more of than any other in the list below…

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As if I didn’t have enough to do already, I’ve just launched a new blog about Kensington Market. Dealing mostly with lifestyle and fashion, this project came about as a result of the gentrification taking place within the area. Recent activity in The Market seems to indicate that this trend is intensifying.

If people sit back and do nothing, then The Market could very well end up looking like Yorkville (perish the thought!)

I hope to raise awareness about how Kensington Market holds a unique place in the fashion world and community at large. In that light, its real estate / business development needs to have limitations as it is a place of cultural relevance. It doesn’t need more bars or restaurants or even condos; just more opportunities for artists, families, and small business owners to live, work and thrive.

I’m not opposed to change, but I’d like to see Kensington Market evolve in the spirit of free enterprise as opposed to big box mentality. So rather than take shit lying down I decided to do something about it! Check out my new babe at kenmarkstyle.tumblr.com